


Spend some time sitting next to you?

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, M/M, Past Infidelity, Past Relationship(s), Slice of Life, Teasing, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25696486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "Hmm…" Tom wipes of the invisible lint from his robes, "I've heard that before.""Despicable.""Darling…""What do I see in you even? I swear…""Sweet thing…""Padfoot may have been right in this regard, I have disgusting taste in men.""Dearest…"The table bangs as Harry slumps his whole body weight on it, "Absolutely wretched."
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Kudos: 59
Collections: Anonymous





	Spend some time sitting next to you?

When you first look at Tom Marvolo Riddle, you see a strapping man in his prime, smart and handsome; organized and clean. He's the kind that elderly ladies loved to set their grandchildren up with. 

He's perfect and smiling in his suit and Harry, puts a hand near in his heart. How can you both hate and love someone at the same time? 

Tom is lying on his back on their couch, the blue and expensive one from Ikea and he's gorgeous like that, Harry thinks. He's wearing his grey silk robes, a leftover habit from a short-lived relationship with Abraxas Malfoy. 

Harry doesn't fault him for it, he has had his fair share of Malfoys. Harry doesn't kiss and tell. Tom does not know. 

The silk robe slides from Tom's shoulder, that with the combination of his cowlick curls makes Harry ache with want. He doesn't. He came here with a purpose. 

"Tom," Harry greets. Tom hums disinterestedly, he looks completely out of it. Harry goes straight for the kill. "You didn't hang your clothes from last night."

Tom looks like he wants to roll his eyes, but he doesn't. It's a plebian gesture, he'd never. "If you see it, why don't you just pick it up? You know I forget. "

Tom graduated out of their alumnus with top honors, he did not forget. 

"You don't." Harry says, eyes squinting and just a little bit annoyed. "You just wait for me to pick it up. I'm not your maid, Tom. Pick up your own clothes. " 

Tom looks at Harry from the corner of his eye, amusement oozes out of him in waves and Harry knows. He knows. He knows what Tom is trying to do. 

He resents Tom's machinations and his games, his amusement costs too much.

Harry resents Tom. He loves him, a soothing balm to his discombobulated soul. He knows what he Tom is trying to do and he tells him as much with bitterness lacing his tone. 

Tom looks him in the eye, finally, and Harry feels bile rise up in his throat at the sincerity in his eyes. It's all wrong and he almost gags. "I adore you,my sweet little bird."

Harry walks away, dignity still intact and goes to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. 

Harry plays the game that Tom has concocted. He makes the eggs over easy, taking care to fry the sides a bit, just the way Tom prefers and after that he makes the lemon juice that drew tangy grimaces from Harry and a sated expression on Tom's. 

He sets the table and they eat. It's terribly discomforting how domestic everything is, it's scary. If this wasn't Tom, he'd have fun for the hills before they even got this far. 

He doesn't want this, to be shackled in one place and be given a glided cage where he gets to play house with his owner. 

Tom speaks and Harry's thoughts take a screeching halt to devote his full attention to him. 

"I heard about your little…", Tom chews his eggs and taps his index finger to his chin as if in deep thought. " _ Tryst  _ with Diggory last week. The gossip mill in the ministry is very indiscreet."

Harry blinks and he is not surprised. He takes a bite out of his bread, eggs underneath. It's not like he was trying to hide the fact that he was fucking Diggory, people were just slow to the uptake. To be honest, he'd expected Tom to already know. It would be very much like Tom to hide the fact that he knew. 

Tom doesn't care who Harry fucks as long as he comes back to him, in his arms and in his bed at the end of the day. Tom had confessed in the aftermaths of one of their fucking sessions('We're making love to each other, Harry.'), that he took perverse pleasure in seeing Harry sleep with other people only to come back to Tom at the end of the day. 

It was the illusion of choice, Harry  _ chose _ to stay.

"I thought you knew already," Harry picks up his glass of water and drinks, raising his eyebrows at Tom. "And besides, what does it matter?"

_ What does it matter. _

Tom has no answer to that, silence envelopes the kitchen in their two bedroom apartment. It veers somewhere between uncomfortable and comfortable, but Harry pays no mind to it. 

It's not when he almost finishes eating when Tom speaks again, dabbing a napkin on his mouth and looking to be already finishing up himself. 

"Our ten month anniversary is coming up this Friday," He looks up at Harry pleasantly, smug. 

The statement throws Harry of balance as he collects the plates from the tables, because that can't be right. 

"We've only been together for nine months Tom," He stares incredulously at the man across him. "We got together at February." 

"Ah," Tom smirks, thumbing down the collar of his silk robes, "but you forget, darling, we've been sleeping with each other a month before I was well into divorce with Bella." 

"...." Harry stares for a moment, then rakes his hand through his hair; the perfect picture of frustration. "You're infuriating."

"Hmm…" Tom wipes of the invisible lint from his robes, "I've heard that before."

"Despicable."

"Darling…"

"What do I see in you even? I swear…"

"Sweet thing…"

"Padfoot may have been right in this regard, I have  _ disgusting  _ taste in men."

" _ Dearest…" _

The table bangs as Harry slumps his whole body weight on it, " _ Absolutely wretched." _

A pause, "Your taste in men or me?"

Harry sighs, standing up to cup Tom's cheek, "I love you, you insufferable git." 

Tom smiles and leans into the warmth of Harry's palm.

"I know."

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments appreciated ෆ╹ .̮ ╹ෆ


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